Chromatic
by CapraParsay
Summary: ONESHOT: She tripped and fell arse over tit in to his life and brought with her an endless spectrum of irritation. Once a year for ten years Eric must endure the girl that sets his teeth on edge, boils his blood and sets his soul afire. AU. Eric/OC.


**Chromatic**

_ONESHOT: She tripped and fell arse over tit in to his life and brought with her an endless spectrum of irritation. Once a year for ten years Eric must endure the girl that sets his teeth on edge, boils his blood and sets his soul afire. AU. Eric/OC. _

**A Oneshot which spans over a decade. Naturally I am basing this Eric on Jai Courtney's character but due to age he won't look like the movie version until at least 21. I'd love to know what your thoughts are on this piece.**

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Divergent.**_

* * *

**One**

Ten inexcusable minutes of waiting led to a multitude of observations. The cafeteria, in which 6 doors stayed infuriatingly closed, had dimmed down with time to a vomit like shade of yellow. An unpleasant culmination of smells permeated the air, greasy meat and soda pop. A repetitive dripping noise, it set one's teeth on edge in its irregularity.

Eric did not like to be kept waiting.

Especially regarding matters which would affect the rest of his life. It would only occur to him moments later, that he should have savoured the solitude whilst he had it.

"SHANANANANA! NAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

Clenched fists whitened as he turned to glare at the source of his interrupted musings.

He was immediately assaulted with the sight of an Amity eyesore. Banana coloured T-shirt beneath red dungarees, they were currently being sported by a girl who might have been electrocuted on her way out the fence. So the mousy brown hair sticking up in haphazard directions would imply. Large eyes which Eric decided were the colour of bile, gazed down at him excitably.

"What a fine Friday it is to find a faction!" she declared before falling in to her seat.

Quite literally, slipping up to land with an audible thump on her chair.

"Shoot!" she laughed but immediately schooled her features in to a faraway look. Inhaling deeply, a stringed instrument materialized before him and Eric felt a wave of fear advancing.

No, No, Please No.

An insufferable wail ensued.

"_I'm waiting for my future by a boy in blue _

_He's gonna choose a Faction and I am too_

_And now he's scowling at me with an angry face_

_Like he wants to bash my head in with a spiky mace_

_It's probably cuz he's nervous that his results will suck_

_But I'm just sitting here like I don't give a-"_

"Miss? We're ready for you now." an older woman clad in Abnegation grey became his saviour.

"Next stop! Simulation city, where the grass is actually cheese and wild dogs attacks you," she sing-songed and skidded over to the door. Peering over her shoulder at him with an animated salute and skipping in to obscurity.

Thank god he'd never see that monstrosity again.

* * *

**Two**

One day. Eric would only have to endure the administering of tests for this one occasion. Dauntless Leadership was no longer a dream; it was tangible, irresistibly close. As a commander of the brave and fearless there would _be _no time for aptitude tests.

Unfortunately until that became a reality there really was no escaping the tedious day ahead of him. Meaningless hours of observing the Stiff's simulations and sorting them accordingly.

Months of training for _this?_ The heat of his glare should have seared holes in to the locked door ahead, wasn't it bad enough that he had to do this god damn job in the first place let alone wait for the rooms to open.

Growling in frustration, Eric snatched a cigarette from his pocket and lit it. Silver eyes narrowed to slits as an audible gasp sounded from beside him. The rotund figure in question's chins trembled in outrage.

"You can't smoke in here!"

The force of his glare never wavered; she would have to have been a servant of some sort, a dinner lady perhaps. Had she really expected him to listen? It was almost laughable. But of course, Eric never laughed. His message was received eventually and with a few curse words muttered under her breath, she disappeared from view.

A cold sense of dread curled within and every muscle stiffened as a painfully familiar voice ricocheted off the walls. The perfect verb, her words really were bullets, screeching immediate wails that pierced the skull.

"What a _sensational_ Saturday it is to sort somebody!"

They were miniscule ticks really, practically unnoticeable to the human eye. An ever so slight clenching of fists, the bone against bone hiss of grinding teeth. Maybe if he didn't react, she would leave him alone.

"No way! It's the boy in blue!"

The faint twitch of the muscle in his jaw…

"I guess it's the boy in black now, huh. Ah Jiminy I forgot my guitar! I had the perfect rhyme for you."

Thank God for small mercies.

"But I guess it could work without."

_Damn it!_

"_I'm waiting to sort students with a boy in BLACK! Last year he was really weedy but now he's stacked!-"she_ paused sheepishly, "Yeah that's as far as I got, I made it up on the spot."

_No shit._

Vivacious yellows and reds which were indistinguishable as he kept his gaze averted.

"Not much of a talker, are you?" she flopped in to the chair beside him; wisps of brown hair invaded his line of vision, what a mess.

Eric proceeded to take a heavy drag of his cigarette, happy thoughts, happy thoughts. Torturing initiates, Dauntless leadership, ruining Four's life.

"So are you excited for today? Well, I'm stoked! I'm ready! I've got Candor, and you know I know they don't like my sort much but gee! What an experience, right? I actually went to school with this Candor about what? Three? Four years ago? I dunno, anyway so I'm eating lunch by myself right? And this Candor boy he comes up to me and he's like _'you're a fake'_ and I'm like _'what? No I'm not?"_ and he just keeps on going saying kindness is false and I'm fake and on and on and anyway long story short, I slammed him over the head with my guitar."

He looked at her then, fine white paper hanging from his open mouth. She simply beamed back with her fungus coloured eyes.

"He was in the hospital for _weeks," _she smiled fondly, though a crease appeared between her brows. "Actually it might have been months, he was in a coma."

Eric blinked; her teeth were irritatingly white, blinding slabs of bone in her big mouth.

"Holy Moly! Look at that ear!" she gasped delightedly and leaned in with unabashed interest. "Gee, it must hurt a whole lot to have metal in your face! Is that why you're grumpy all the time?"

His cool mask remained impassive with another inhale.

"My father once slipped on a shuck of corn and speared himself in the face with his gardening fork; it went straight through his bottom lip, he was in a foul mood for weeks!"

As moments passed, it became increasingly clear that what might have been passed off as terrible humour was in fact outright stupidity. This girl was a flaming moron.

Eric regarded her pitying smile for a moment, and released a vast plume of smoke. Right in to her face.

The sounds of her spluttering displeasure brought great satisfaction.

A metallic rattling resonated along the walls and his legs were moving before his mind could catch up, without a single word he snatched the keys from whatever nobody was supplying them and stormed in to room number 5.

But not before a bubbly cry abused his ears with painful potency.

"BYE! BOY IN BLACK!"

This was going to be a long day.

* * *

**Three**

It had been achieved, he had received the role of Dauntless Leader and though still young in his 18 years, he proved a mental competency that far surpassed that off the others members.

Why then was it that he currently stood for a third time in the dingy cafeteria of the hub's school? What shitty twist of fate deemed it a necessity?

He could snap a man's neck with the flick of his wrist, shoot the feathers of a bird, he was a living, breathing killing machine. Not a god damn babysitter.

Would anyone notice if he replaced the vials with fear serum?

"THE SHOW HAS ARRIVED!" he heard her sudden squeal.

Make that death serum.

Little distance had been made between himself and the door and when the total losers that were the school's janitors got off their sizeable arses and gave him the keys, then he would be ready.

Until then it seemed leaning against the wall with a look of thunder did little to deter the sunburn personified.

Her skin was hideously mottled with red, an angry permanent blush that carried all the way to her plump cheeks. It made the green in her eyes especially vivid. The Human Tomato.

"This may possibly be the most spectacular Sunday to solve simulations!"

Eric didn't spare a look, but he did cross his arms with slow deliberate motions over his chest. Large muscles flexed dangerously beneath inked skin. Perhaps some intimidation was required; he was after all a master at it.

"Oh congratulations by the way, I heard you're a Dauntless Leader now. I heard it through the grape vine." She nodded enthusiastically "Literally! I was making wine at the time."

A sleeping draught wouldn't do any harm, nothing that would lead back to him anyway.

"I wasn't sure you'd be here what with you being a high, flying commander now!" she grinned with lips that looked to have been bitten raw, a nervous tongue flitted out to moisten them.

"But just in case you were, I made you a present."

An ugly clump of metal was thrust before his eyes, a malformed ring of sorts. He took a deep breath and plucked it from her fingers, the nails had been painted individual shades of grotesque.

His cold grey eyes slid slowly to meet her excited gaze, decidedly swamp coloured. Without breaking the stare he clenched his jaw and threw it over his shoulder.

She watched as it clanged loudly against ceramic tiles, moments passed in which he felt silent victory, before she turned to him with a patient smile.

"I'm sensing a little hostility in you right now Eric; would you like to hug it out?"

Wrenching the keys from the pocket of a passing man, Eric proceeded in to the room. His answer came in the form of a slammed door.

* * *

**Four **

He had resided himself to the fact this would, for some time at least, become a yearly occurrence. 10 hours of his life dedicated to watching someone decide if they preferred knives or cheese.

He had resided himself to this fact, but that didn't mean he had to be gracious about it.

No. Eric glared, snarled and sneered at anyone stupid enough to even look at him that day. When the enduring process was over he ripped his jacket from the door, shoved it open and tore on through. The only reprieve that day was that he had gone the entire time without seeing a very unwelcome face, if he made haste, another year would go by in which things stayed that way.

A worn railroad weaved through the centre of the city. Memorizing the train schedule did seem now like an idea he should have invested in. Static shocks of vivid purple cut though the ashen clouds, it was in its dark intensity, a reflection of his anger.

One hand had already grasped the huge metal structure leading to the train's platform when his body tensed with awareness. Dungarees had been ditched for a bright yellow raincoat and vivacious red boots. She flew towards him with a matching umbrella, though seemed to have forgotten the function of it as she twirled it behind her like a crimson spinning top.

Icy droplets of rain had her mousy hair sticking to light brown skin in sodden clumps, the skin beside her mould coloured eyes crinkled with a delighted smile as she jumped from one puddle to the next.

"Hey wait up!"

His boot lifted on to the first railing, and then she was beside him, looking at the towering structure in awe.

"Eric! Eric wait!" she waved her hands frantically. He did not move down, but did not ascend upwards either, simply fixed her with an unimpressed glare. Moments passed until he arched an eyebrow expectantly, and she watched in open mouthed wonder before giving him her trademark smile.

"Hi."

The burning vexation which had simmered within all day began to seep through threateningly; she had deigned to press upon his precious time…to say hi?

"I-I didn't see you this morning, I just wanted to-" she bounced up and down on her toes anxiously, two dents existed in her cheeks, they appeared to Eric like strange cavities in her dampened skin.

"To see how you were doing?" she finished.

"Is that so?" he questioned softly, and noted how her eyes widened at the first words to pass through his mouth.

"Ahhmm…yeah!"

His heavily built form jumped from the railings with surprising litheness, the landing caused a smattering of water to spray her in the face. A spritz of mud dusted her nose like freckles, but she simply laughed it off, albeit a hitched, nervous sound. It only served to fuel his vexation.

"You wanted to know how I am?"

The question received an eager nod.

"Alright," he shrugged and took up a more languid stance. "This job is a waste of my time, I've just missed my train, And for four years straight now I've had to put up with you. You and your endless yammering, you never shut up. You have the mental age of a 7 year old and you dress like one too. You're a mess, you know you're a mess, and so to escape it, you inflict your irritating self on everyone else."

Clear drops of rain clung desperately to her lashes as she stared up at him in dismay.

"So in answer to your question, not too good," he watched as her throat bobbed nervously. "Was there anything else?"

"N-no."

A slow smirk appeared then, and satisfied; Eric climbed the rest of the way in haste to prepare for the oncoming train.

* * *

**Five **

They were late again.

The keeper of keys could do with a kick up the arse; Eric would see to it that they were fired immediately. His long black clad limbs covered the breadth of three chairs; he spun a vial of clear liquid idly in his fingers whilst waiting for two things.

The first, his admission to room number 5, so that he could get on with the damn tests.

And the inevitable second, although, following her forlorn reaction to his verbal beating the previous year. He was almost waiting for her arrival with sly amusement, deduction and logic had led him to the conclusion that though she was an unusual creature; she was also a simple one. Easily wounded by superficial insults.

Eric had already begun to mull over a few, inspired by the dark mottled patches which had begun to spread through the cafeteria walls. Eyes the colour mud, he would say, no that was too poetic…bacteria? She was quite akin to bacteria, unwanted and infectious, burying its way under the skin and diluting blood.

Would she cry perhaps? Big, blubbering tears and snot like sniffles. Snot! That was the word; dirty mildew eyes the colour of-

Heavy footfall approached causing the floors to squeal under her boots. Readiness flared up within him, the majority of this day would be a hell bore but why shouldn't he have some fun beforehand? A vicious insult was already poised on his tongue when he turned to see…

Someone else.

Eric's jaw snapped shut, a young woman made her way to the seat beside him with a gentle smile. She wore a yellow vest, a red beanie and her legs were clad in simple blue denim. The entire look was…unsettlingly normal. She plucked a half knitted scarf from her crotchet bag and began to work quietly.

Where the hell was that weirdo? The abominable freak. The disaster on two legs that imposed upon his life like a vivacious itch that could not be scratched.

Well, his resentment could only have been down to one thing. A deep rooted envy that reared its ugly head whenever faced with an injustice. In this case, her ability to get out of work.

How dare she? How dare that blabbering moron forego her duties? She had a job to do just like he did, what made her think she could just stop now? Perhaps her superiors had finally seen the light and sent her off to the Factionless, they could certainly use a sing-song.

Good riddance of course, Eric never thought he'd see the day. Somehow he had resided himself to the idea that she would be a regular irritant in his life. But, apparently not. Good.

…He really had wanted to see her cry though.

* * *

**Six **

The twenty one year mile stone seemed to bring with it an array of changes. For one, the physical meant he had filled out in a way that made lean youthful muscle more structured. The large masculine planes of his chest, sculpted arms and solid shoulders spoke of a more matured form. Dark blocks covered the breadth of his neck and forearms, whilst cropped hair brought out the stern cut of his jaw.

There were however changes that ran deeper, something that wouldn't emaciate with time. Where once a bottle of whiskey, a beautiful face, and a party would have proved all the entertainment in the world. It did eventually lose its charm, there was repetitiveness in inebriation, and even sex became trivial.

The entire outlook left him rather…bored.

Eric saw no need to rely on his glare as of late, there was a chill to his entire demeanour that made those dramatics unnecessary. He did at least, still take pleasure in watching initiates squirm, that would never lose its charm.

The distinct shift in priorities meant his complaints were now non-existent in regards to The Aptitude Tests. It was still tedious, and he did not enjoy the process but it didn't prove to be a great deal worse than a lot of other things. It was just a job, and he would get it done.

In the forefront of his mind, he thought about how desperately the cafeteria needed a clean, what changes would be made to the initiate's regime that year and what tactics would assist him in Capture the Flag.

There was a thought however, that wandered idly further back in to his psyche. A silent question as to where she might be at that moment.

If he acknowledged that thought, which he tried not to, then Eric decided it was because he wanted to finish what he had started. She had displayed her vulnerabilities for everyone to see, practically painted a target on her back. It made sense that the oppressor in him would seek it out.

An animalistic excitement fired up within when he heard her approach with a distant hum, it was undeniably her.

It was also undeniably…mellow.

"Ahh, yes," she floated in to her seat with unusual grace. There seemed to be a clouded look in her eye, a disturbing dreaminess.

His lips curled with the hint of a sneer, where was the bizarre greeting? The singing? He had avidly envisioned himself take the instrument and smashing it on the floor mid-song.

"Sometimes," she began, gazing out in to the distance dumbly, "I think I'm a single pea, living in the runner bean of life."

"Peace Serum," an amused voice spoke in his ear and Eric turned with a cold look. There stood a man who came to place one hand on her chair, red trousers and a yellow tunic, another Amity volunteer.

"What?" Eric scowled, wasn't one of them bad enough?

"Liquid delirium we used to calm her down, she's a sweet girl this one, but a little too odd…even for us!" the older man chuckled and patted her on the back. She relaxed in to the touch with a lazy smile, "Huh?"

Eric watched the exchange with open distaste. "You've mistaken me for someone who cares."

He didn't stick around to catch a reply, stalking in to his appointed room and leaning against the door behind him.

He didn't care. He didn't.

* * *

**Seven **

"Hello Eric," this voice was pure. Warm and undiluted, but bubbling with that same high tone that had vexed him to no end.

Her skin was sallow despite its natural tan and mossy eyes were rimmed a bloody red that hinted at stolen sleep. Even the frizzy bush that adorned her head now hung down in dejected strands.

He did not acknowledge her presence, though after minutes of silence; it proved impossible not to make a scathing remark.

"What, no wailing today?"

A small smile touched her blue tinged lips, "Why? Did you want me to?"

"Hell no," he growled.

She did not reply. Eric blamed his next question on a hatred of ignorance, he would discover the reason for her absence whether he cared or not. (And he didn't.)

"So what did you do to get drugged? Run naked through the herb garden? "

Her eyes shone with a glimmer of mirth as she turned to regard him, he told himself they looked like vulgar mists in the midst of a bog.

"Oh no, that'd hardly have been sage of me," she gave him a small grin, displaying mild dimples. He just met her gaze with a sardonic brow, the impassive mask stayed on when her smile faltered, though it disturbed him more than he would have liked.

Simply because it looked so strange on her, also she was very unattractive when she frowned, quite abusive to the eyes actually.

"I started to get sad," she said softly. "I guess they didn't like that."

He snorted, turning away then to lean back with legs on the table. "You didn't get sad," and with an Erudite analysis, explained it as though to a child. "That doesn't happen to people like you. You're too disgustingly happy. It's impossible."

Eric considered that the end of it, and closed his eyes to await the day ahead.

"You think I'm naturally happy?" she asked quietly.

He didn't want to answer, didn't want to spur her on, not when she was probably fishing for compliments.

"I don't _think._ I know."

"You don't know anything."

His eyes opened as he turned to regard her with a glacial look, daring her to continue.

"I'm not happy," she began, "Just like you're not angry, not really. It's something far more deep rooted than that."

Unable to resist indulging her, he questioned.

"And what would that be?"

"Passion," she said simply and received a derisive snort in response. "Happiness, Hatred, Jealousy…it all stems from passion, what you do with it is just the extension. I choose joy because it makes me feel good, but at least to hate is to feel too."

There was a moment's silence, in which he told himself she had no point, what was the point?!

"What do you think would happen if you couldn't be angry Eric? If you couldn't exact your fury on others? How do you think it would feel to keep that contained? You wonder why I'm happy, but you know why, for the same reason you hate. It's to stop all of that emotion from bottling up until you explode. It's to stop you from destroying yourself."

"I didn't need your life st-"

"I think," she stopped him, "When I'm sad, it feels like that passion is dying away. Sometimes I don't feel anything at all."

Eric had heard enough, he scanned her withdrawn face with an incredulous stare before retreating in to his room.

He'd have preferred the singing.

* * *

**Eight **

She had on a floor-length dress when he saw her next, it rippled with every movement she made and in its yellow shade words like phlegm and curd came to mind.

But so did sun, lemon and light. Her eyes, he had come to accept, were just plain green. They were rather boring actually; he wondered why he had spent so much time trying to work on an adjective for them. The hair too, dull brown locks trailed lowly past soft skin.

Because that really was undeniable, even in the artificial glow of the cafeteria, smooth rounded curves, latte coloured tone, everything about her was radiantly soft. He allowed repulsion to mar his stare as he perused her lit form.

For one moment, though he swore it down to masculine impulses, he wondered if her hips were as pliable as they looked, if his fingers would leave bruised marks. She still walked like a god damn goose, waddling in to the chair next to him to smile wildly.

Eric wanted to say he had preferred solemnity but…this was familiar. It was only natural that he would like familiarity, it was human instinct, and he could only trust what he knew. And he knew this…he knew her.

"Good morning Eric."

"Is it?"

"It could be," she smiled. "It could be the best morning of our lives."

He rolled his eyes; some things really did never change.

"Somehow I doubt that," he drawled.

"Why do you say that?"

She really never did let up did she?

"Same old test, same old cafeteria, same old circumstance," he stood then, ready to cut this conversation short before she could probe any further.

A faceless man was unlocking the doors, one by one. Eric waited impatiently for his own when a delicate hand grazed his dark sleeve.

A sharp remark fell silent on his tongue when soft lips pressed gently against his. He immediately stiffened at the contact, reaching out to pull away from the offending figure. The silk of her dress ran smoothly against his fingertips, and pressing deeper his touch found generous curves that begged to be gripped and kneaded.

His reaction was instant; pulling her in to deepen the kiss he felt quick breaths tickling his bottom lip. Eric pinched her hip roughly causing a feminine sigh to fall in to his mouth, his tongue moved in dominant strokes against her own. Tentative breaths turned in to sensuous moans, it was only as his hand ran greedily down to grip her silk clad bum that the stirring in his lower abdomen became all too real.

She had ended it before he had time to rip himself away with a choice of explicit curses, suddenly the chiming voice that had come to haunt his waking nightmares, spoke dangerously soft in his ear. He had to stifle a groan as his body itched to steal back that warmth.

"There, now the circumstances have changed. Haven't they?"

And for the first time in seven years, it was he that watched _her_ walk away.

* * *

**Nine **

365 days could pass in a flash; Eric now understood why he had been told so young that time is ephemeral. They had come and gone in a heartbeat. 365 nights on the other hand, how they could pass with agonizing lethargy. He had been at first disgusted that his subconscious should conjure up such vivid images of the girl.

Okay fine, the woman. 365 nights later and he could at least admit that she was 100% completely, delectably, woman. Then he had grown used to it, even savoured it, the debauched hallucinations of her ecstatic moans, sometimes she would say his name. If anything, the taboo of it all made it all the more enticing.

It did however; continue to bother him that on the odd occasion, the images would just be of her…being her. He'd pictured her in the fields, a fine mist of sweat on her bronzed skin as she brushed it away slowly with a relieved sigh. Sometimes she was laughing, a bright infectious sound that filled the air with its light indulgence, and he had even once thought again of those god awful dungarees. (It had only been once though, he wasn't a lunatic.)

A heavy sense of anticipation thrummed through him despite his attempts to make it dissipate, and he had tried, he really had. But she had gotten under his skin, a feverish itch that no longer had to do with repulsion or hate; it could only be sated by something far more carnal.

His dark gaze found her immediately upon arrival, right outside the school she stood soaking up the sun's ray, a vision of red. The golden strobes reflected on her hair in coppery highlights, it was longer than he remembered, weaving down in soft waves to mid-back.

Faction before blood, Faction before blood, he repeated to himself, a desperate mantra, blood blood, her dress was the colour of blood. A deep tantalizing crimson that swayed with every step she made, the hem brushed teasingly across the floor, making it impossible to tell if she was wearing shoes. He wouldn't have been surprised if she wasn't. Odd, ethereal creature.

He knew how he would lose himself, his impenetrable mask; she would barely have to look at him. It would be as though those 365 days have never passed and she was once more the girl in yellow gazing up at him with stolen breaths and swollen lips.

He allowed himself to become a shadow when he walked through door number 5 that day; all she would have to do is look at him. So he would not give her the opportunity to look.

Unfortunately, he couldn't have predicted that on the tenth hour that day, as he walked back through the exit that she would be waiting right outside. Chocolate waves pulled to one side to expose the length of her neck. His grey eyes followed its trail slowly, tracing the soft contour of her collar bone.

"Are you avoiding me?" she grinned. Full, soft lips pulled over pearly white teeth.

Eric, never one to back down from a challenge, no matter the attraction of the opponent, took a deliberate step forward until she was backed in to the wall.

"Why would I be doing that?"

"I don't know," she breathed softly. "You tell me."

He didn't answer straight away; he found he really didn't want to. He just wanted to drink her in, the hollow of her waist as it flared out in to generous hips and the dip between her breasts.

Golden brown skin that betrayed her many days in the sun, her lips were a vivacious red that matched the satin of her dress. He looked up to meet her dilated gaze and he knew now their colour. They were a forest fire, vivid green and lined with amber.

But he could not let go completely, not before he understood.

"This shouldn't be happening," he said, though the distance had been closed and his eyes were now fixated on her lips. "I don't even like you."

Her mouth curved in to a soft smile and he looked up to see dark excitement in her gaze.

"Would you go as far as to say that you hate me?"

His palm reached out to her thigh, and ran heatedly upwards until it had enclosed her waist in a firm grip.

"Maybe," he murmured, her cool breaths fell tantalizingly against his jaw.

"Good."

* * *

**Ten **

Years later and the school had still failed in their duties to keep a minimum standard of hygienic maintenance. His eyes skimmed lazily over the dry cracked paper and seeping floorboards, perhaps he could have the cleaners fired. Or the entire school board. Was that within his power? If not he'd make it so, after all, who was the one with the gun?

This was the final year administering tests, finally. It had been a long time coming, and as the incensed voices in the courtyard outside grew every more ardent, he relished that he'd never have to say those same lines again. '_No I can't tell you what you'll see, 'No that's not poison', 'No it doesn't hurt, unless you keep talking. Now shut the hell up and drink.'_

She was much better with the bedside manner, it came naturally to her. A side effect of kindness. Of course, she'd scold him for saying so; explain in that infuriating voice of hers that it was a choice and if he chose the wrong one that was his prerogative.

Nobody told him what would happen next, she especially. Sometimes he thinks if he could just have one more moment with her he'd say, you chose wrong. They'd called it a division of cells, a malformation. They told him that one day her body had begun to attack itself from the inside. She'd have smiled at that, called it ironic, '_even in death I'm still my own worst enemy'._

He had since then become a victim to his own rage; it was a searing undercurrent to his existence. Perhaps because she'd known, he didn't know for how long. Months? Years? He had called her a witch, a sorceress, a demon, sometimes it helped. A sick, twisted green eyed demon, whispering smoke in to his lungs as they'd lain together their final time.

"_You'll always be my boy in blue, the boy with the black heart." _

To find familiarity was his instinct to survive, and if nothing else, Eric was a survivor. So he found it in fury, because he knew that well. He allowed himself to hate her, a venomous hate that tore at his lungs and pierced his skull.

Because even to hate is to feel.


End file.
